The Valley: A Lee Harden Novel, page 33
Colin stared at them for a time. A few of them stared back, their big, black ears framing their faces. Inscrutable black eyes watching him. Did they know they were about to have their balls chopped off? They wouldn’t even get anesthetic for it. Just wrangle them down onto their backs, cut open the ball sack, squeeze out the balls, and lop them off with a tool that looked like a hook-billed bolt cutter. A splash of antiseptic solution—they used the byproducts of their whiskey still to do that. And then they just let them go with a slap on the ass.
It was the strangest thing. Colin had spent his entire life doing this job, and yet, all of the sudden, the idea of all those castrations turned his stomach. Not the act of it, specifically, but the fact that it was done without anesthetic.
“They’re too dumb to feel it,” his father had told him when he’d been a boy.
But then, why did they scream? And a scream is what it was. Sounded like a moo, but it was always higher and sharper and so forceful that their voices would crack when they did it. Not the most terrible noise he’d ever heard from a farm animal—that belonged to injured horses and stuck pigs. But still. The idea of it.
What the fuck are you actually thinking about right now?
Colin blinked and redirected his attention to the silo. The two ranch hands guarding it were watching him curiously. He shifted his weight. Sweaty palms. Clammy fingers twiddling with each other.
Screaming cows. Screaming people.
Howling infected.
Kat, howling.
She betrayed me.
—you got what you wanted; they’re sitting in the barn—
Yeah, sure. But what the fuck was he going to say to them? He’d told Bran he wanted to talk to them, but only right then did he actually consider that desire. Because he didn’t actually want to talk to them. He’d just had an image in his mind of the ranch boss talking to the people that he’d just kidnapped. Because…that seems like something you should do when you kidnap someone.
But there was nothing he actually wanted to say. Because there was nothing to say to them that wasn’t either a lie, or simply rubbing in the unpleasant truth. And he was in no mood for lies. And if he told them the terrible truth, then they might scream.
The idea of it came upon him, and felt very real—unavoidable, actually. And if they screamed, then the cows might scream…
This is all bullshit and you know it.
—you’re losing it—
No, I’m fine. I’m in control.
—you’re not even in the driver’s seat, asshole—
But then, who was?
“Boss!” Bran’s voice hit him like a smack to the back of the head. But, as he turned back to the Big House, he thought, Yeah, I’m the boss. See? I’m in the driver’s seat…
When he found Bran, the man was standing on the porch, pointing towards the gate. “He’s here!”
Colin’s stomach dropped like a trapdoor had been triggered somewhere in his midsection. He looked at the gate. Traced the road with his eyes. And found the two figures approaching. One tall, with a frizzy halo of blonde hair. One shorter, with a tan serape billowing in the breeze.
Behind them, along the top of the nearest hill, a line of figures hunched low in the grass. Maybe a dozen of them.
Lander’s “family.”
“Shit,” Colin hissed under his breath, and began walking back towards the Big House.
The sound of worried nickers and whinnies came from the stables. The scent of Lander’s family must’ve carried on the wind.
Colin’s fingers and toes tingled as he stalked stiffly back to the steps of his house. He hesitated at the bottom, but then mounted them and stood next to Bran, simply because it would feel better to stand slightly higher than Lander.
Colin noted that Kat was standing off a bit, with Bran between her and himself. She didn’t seem too worried about Colin, though. Her eyes were locked on the two approaching figures, now reaching the gates.
The guards at the gate knew the drill. They also had no desire to prolong any interaction with Lander, or his bottom bitch, Freya. They swung the gates wide when Lander and Freya were still several yards off, and stood far clear of them both as they strode through.
Off of Colin’s right shoulder, Bran took a deep breath in and let it out slowly through his nose. Bran might have a soft spot for Kat, but that did not extend to Lander or Freya.
Why’s he got a soft spot for Kat?
—because you treat her like shit—
Does he think he has to protect her from me?
—doesn’t he?—
Would he kill me to save her?
Colin found himself eyeing Bran sidelong. The air between them seemed to crackle and hiss like a disrupted electrical field. Bran didn’t seem to notice, but Colin sure did. He could feel the distorted relationship between them.
Can I trust him?
—of course not—
You can’t trust anyone, because everyone’s always lying.
“You think Kat made a different call earlier?” Colin said under his breath.
Bran twitched, then turned his head to Colin, realizing the question was directed at him. He faltered for a moment, then said, “What?”
“The howl she made earlier,” Colin specified. “On Jax and Marie. Was it the right howl?”
Bran was very still for a moment. Then he smiled, but it was all wrong. Forced. Disingenuous. “Shit, I dunno, Boss. I don’t speak the language.”
He’s lying.
—even your best friend lies to you—
Best friend?
—you’re right, that’s wrong. Your ONLY friend—
I don’t fucking have friends. I have a ranch.
Colin ground his teeth and looked away from Bran, partly because Lander and Freya were now approaching, and partly because he couldn’t bear the feeling of betrayal. Looking at Bran only made it worse.
“How goes it?” Lander greeted cheerfully as he stopped, about a yard shy of the front steps. He squinted up at Colin, a smile on his face. So casual. Like he owned the fucking world.
Stupid cocksucker.
—don’t you wish you could feel that way, too?—
How?
—confident and in control—
Colin sneered. “We have what you asked for.”
Lander’s eyebrows raised, his smile falling. But only for a moment. Then he started laughing. Real, solid belly laughs. Completely in earnest. With not a shred of self-consciousness. Not a shred of worry. Like he knew that he was untouchable.
I want to be untouchable, too.
“Christ, man,” Lander said through his tapering chuckles. “We’re talking about a person here, not a bag of feed!”
Colin squinted at him. “A person that you’re going to keep captive. Against her will.” Not that he really cared. He was just pointing out that Lander had no moral high ground to stand on.
But Lander only bobbled his head and waved his hand, like it was neither here nor there. “Yeah, well, strange times, amiright?” He shrugged. “But we all have to grow and adapt, don’t we? We have to evolve. And who knows? Maybe she’ll come around and see the good in it.”
“The good in it?” Colin practically coughed the words out.
Lander’s face flashed momentary irritation, but then settled again. He tilted his head back, looking steadily at Colin, evaluating him. “Oh, dear. I apologize—has your task chapped your morals a bit? I wasn’t aware you had any.” The humor came back to his face again. “In the future, I’ll make sure to accommodate your delicate ethical sensibilities.”
Colin sucked on his teeth and thought about another line of meth, but it was too soon, and the tin was empty anyway, and that made him very sad. “You want her or not?” he grunted. “Or did you just come to chat with people that actually speak English?” He maybe should’ve stopped there, but the rest came out before he had a chance to rein it in. “I imagine it gets old talking in grunts and growls, but this ain’t a fucking Sunday social, and I’ve got shit to do.”
The heat of rash words and their looming consequences scorched Colin’s scalp.
But Lander only laughed again. “Oh-ho! Damn!” He glanced over his shoulder at Freya, who, Colin noted, was in a staredown with Kat. “I think that was directed at you, lady friend.”
Freya’s eyes snapped to Colin’s, but he could tell that she hadn’t been listening. Too busy gazing at Kat with…what? He could never tell whether the intensity in their staredowns was some sort of savage affection, or a promise of violence barely restrained.
Freya made no comment and went back to looking at Kat.
Lander hiked a thumb at her and spoke out of the side of his mouth, sotto voce. “But you’re not wrong.” He snickered at his own joke, then clapped his hands together. “Aaaanyway. Where is she?”
Roughly eight hundred yards from where Colin Horner and Lander Hollis were talking, Lee and Abe were watching them. As it turned out, there was a place in all these rolling, grassy hills where they could stay hidden and maintain a visual on the ranch.
After some careful searching, they’d located a patch of some low, dense shrub that had overtaken the top of a hill directly south of Horner’s Peak. Lying on their bellies amidst those shrubs, Lee and Abe had found a decent hide between two clusters of bushes that provided a complete view of the ranch. It wasn’t perfect, and the shrubs were prickly, but it was as good as they were going to get.
“You think he’s in the silo?” Abe murmured, staring through his scoped rifle at the ranch below them.
Lee glassed the scene below with a pair of binocs. “That’d be my guess. Two guards posted. And it looked like Horner was heading over there before Lander showed up.”
Unfortunately, Lander had also brought a dozen primals with him, which complicated things. If they were forced to start shooting from this position, the primals might make a move on them.
The primals were positioned in the tall grass to either side of the road that led into the ranch. They were due west of the ranch, about a thousand yards from Lee, who was due south.
Lee had left their truck two hills further south than their current location. He wondered if they’d have time to fall back to the truck if the primals came at them. Probably not. But a thousand yards might be enough to pick them off as they advanced.
Maybe. Hopefully.
“They’re moving,” Abe said, his voice a low monotone. “Towards the silo. Horner, Bran, Kat, Lander, and his pet primal.”
“Oh, that’s Freya,” Marie corrected from where she was crouching behind them. A little further back from her, Jones sat with his rifle on his knees, watching their rear.
Jones turned to look at Marie with an arched eyebrow. “Freya, like the Norse goddess?”
Marie eyed him. “You know the weirdest shit. And none of it’s useful.”
Jones shrugged. “What? Everyone was really into Viking shit when I deployed.”
Lee shifted his body, making sure not to jostle the shrubs around them. There were a lot of eyes scanning these hills—both Horner’s ranch hands, and the primals on the next ridge over. He got himself positioned so he was in line with the silo, then twisted the focus on his binocs.
“Lander and Colin are going into the silo,” Abe narrated.
Lee felt a nudge on his ankle, then Marie’s hushed voice: “What are we gonna do if Lander takes Sam too?”
“Well, I really would like to wait until dark,” Lee murmured. “But if they take Sam, we gotta roll. Y’all down for that?”
“I don’t see another choice,” Jones agreed. “Can’t let the fucker take Sam back to their…nest or whatever. Then we’d have to take on the whole fucking horde.”
“None of us are gonna let him take Sam,” Marie said, and Lee figured she spoke for Abe as well. “If we have to do it, we gotta wait for Lander to get away from the ranch.”
Lee nodded. “Agreed. No point fighting both groups of assholes.”
No one needed to point out that it was a long shot either way—taking on Lander and his pack of primals was likely to be just as shitty as taking on the ranch, though they presented different tactical problems.
“Next question,” Marie pressed on. “Are we going to try to stop him from taking Bea?”
“Fuck no,” Abe said. “Sorry for her, but we got enough on our plate just saving our boy.”
“I agree he’s priority number one,” Marie said. “But…”
“It sucks, alright?” Lee said, still staring at the silo. The deep shadows within revealed nothing to him of what was happening inside. All he could see was Bran and Kat and Freya, standing outside and staring at each other. “I know it sucks. No one’s saying it doesn’t suck. But you’re both right. No, we cannot afford to prioritize Bea. But we will keep an eye out, and if there’s an opportunity to help her that doesn’t fuck Sam’s chances, then we’ll take it.”
“What about what we asked for?” Abe said. “Did we ever get confirmation from Angela?”
Marie shook her head. “Nothing.”
“So Colorado’s hanging us out to dry,” Abe grunted. “Great.”
“We don’t know that,” Lee said, even as he felt that Abe was probably correct. “No contact doesn’t mean they denied the request. Until I hear a straight ‘no,’ I’m going to take it on faith that we’ll get our time window.”
“Which doesn’t start for another few hours anyway,” Marie pointed out. “Besides, it wouldn’t do us any good in a hostage situation.”
“Movement.” This statement not coming from Abe this time, but from Jones.
Lee twisted to look. Saw the way Jones was angled towards the primals on the next ridge over, and felt everything in him tighten. He reached for the grenade launcher at his side.
“Hold up,” Jones said. “Hang on, guys…It’s not the primals.”
Only Abe remained focused on the ranch, while Lee and Marie both readied their weapons.
“Talk to me,” Abe said.
“I don’t fuckin’ believe this guy,” Jones suddenly hissed. His eyes jagged to Lee. “Glass that ridge, right now. Right on the road.”
Lee moved as fast as he was able without giving up their position—which wasn’t very fast. By the time he’d moved to his knees and gently pressed his binoculars far enough through the shrub to get a glimpse of the road, the object of curiosity was already cresting the ridge.
“Oh, fuck me,” Lee grated. “It’s fucking Ted.”
“Fucking Ted?” Abe jerked, but stayed in his scope. “The fuck’s he doing?”
“Riding a fucking bike,” Lee said, his heart pounding. “Right through a pack of primals.”
Jesus, this guy was completely oblivious. Standing up on the pedals as he topped the rise, either too distracted or too stupid to scan his environment, Lee didn’t know which. But he didn’t see the dozen pairs of feral eyes watching him.
Lee expected them to lunge at any second. At least one of them was going to make a break for Ted, and one was all it would take.
“Are they attacking him?” Marie asked, bewildered.
Lee stared, incredulous, as Ted topped the rise and started flying down the hill towards the ranch. This was when the primals would run at him. They wouldn’t be able to resist, now that they had his back. Every instinct in them would tell them to give chase.
And yet…they stayed.
“They are…not attacking him,” Lee said in wonderment.
Which actually created a whole new set of problems. Lee found himself wishing they had tackled the stupid bastard to the ground. Because now he was racing straight at the ranch. And what was he going to do when he got there? Tell Horner that Lee and his team were about to attack them? Would he sell them out just to try to curry favor with Horner?
“Shoulda fuckin’ killed him,” Lee said, adjusting his body to follow Ted’s progress towards the ranch.
“You want me to take him out?” Abe offered. Then: “Oh, hey, they’re coming out of the silo. Got Horner, Lander, Bea…and Sam. They’re moving Sam too.” A pause. “Lee, gimme a range on Ted, just in case.”
“Stay with Sam,” Lee said, but estimated the distance to Ted. The road in was perpendicular to their position, so the range wouldn’t change much. The speed Ted was moving was a factor though. “Looking at eight hundred yards. Moving west to east at twenty miles per hour.”
Those were not good numbers, and Lee knew it. Abe was no slouch, and he’d received sniper training, just like Lee had. But that didn’t make them professional snipers. And even a professional sniper would have a helluva time hitting at that distance, with that amount of movement. Not to mention eight hundred yards was the max effective distance for Abe’s 5.56mm rifle. Not to mention that their range finder, ballistic calculator, and wind gauge, were all in the Pelican case with the ESR, which had been stolen.
In short, the shot was possible, but not probable.
“Stay on Sam,” Lee reiterated. “We can’t give ourselves away yet.” He lowered himself to the ground, ignoring the pain his ribs, and got the binocs back onto the ranch.
There. Bea and Sam were being hustled along, their arms restrained behind their backs. Bran and Kat were moving them towards the ranch house, with Horner, Lander, and Freya following.
Options tumbled through Lee’s mind, none of them attractive.
Take out Lander? Same problems as taking out Ted, minus the twenty mile per hour movement. And that went for Horner too. And even if they could make the shot, it’d still turn everything into a mess.
Start the assault now? No good. The primals would come running in, if not by instinct, then by Lander or Freya’s command. And Lee and his team would make really nice targets coming down the side of the hill. And the M32 had a maximum effective range of 440 yards. Which meant that Lee would have to make it almost all the way down the hill to even begin firing on the ranch.
Which left the most gut-wrenching option: Wait and see.
But in the meantime…
“Abe,” Lee said, taking the binoculars away from his eyes for a moment and looking eastward. “Come out of your scope. Look east. You see that copse of trees?”
Abe turned his head in that direction. It was a cluster of three or four decent sized trees, about fifty yards down from the top of another rise, maybe a half mile from them. “Yeah.”
